Wednesday, April 25, 2007
New York I Love You But You're Bringing My Reproductive Organs Into Regions For Which They Were Not Made
2007 Tribeca Film Festival. If you're in the area, say hello. I'll be easy to spot: just look for the man on the observation deck of the Empire State Building whose fear of heights have made his testicles recess into his abdomen.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
1. Earlier today, in the shower at my local YMCA, some guy came up and began speaking Spanish to me. I replied in English and his retort was that he assumed I was Mexican! Is it because, naked, I resemble a hairless Chihuahua? Think about it!
2. A mere three days ago, I made a dinner comprised of tortillas, frijoles y queso, all ingredients used often in Mexican cooking! Also, I am quite adept at correctly pronouncing the word Tijuana. Coincidence?? Don't be so naive!
3. Last week on American Idol, the special guest mentor was none other than Jennifer Lopez, an actress/singer/clothing line entrepreneur who speaks Spanish! And she was raised Catholic--the very religion, out of all the world's religions, which annoys me the most! Do you see a pattern here?
4. The final straw in the burros back: just a few minutes ago, I happen to acquire the Nonesuch Explorer CD
The entire population of la raza blanca is in danger! Do I have to draw you a diagram?
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Dave Cloud at the ground floor, you're too late. To judge from a few of the previously unreleased tracks on his new career-spanning two-fer, Napoleon of Temperance (namely
Belinda Purvis, Misengendered Mulatto Squandering Abeyance to Phantasmagoria, Sudden Stop and You Missed A Damn Good Chance), he's already taking the elevator through the Glass Ceiling of Crazy and is flying far into the stratosphere. It goes without saying, therefore, that Mr. Cloud is one of my favorite artists working today. He's my American Idol and Top Of The Pops rolled into one. And did I mention that he's completely crazy?
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
one minute and thirty-five seconds.
It ends up with its own cable-TV show.
It ends up with its own cable-TV show.
Monsters, an album which demeans all who listen to it). At the exact moment I was rudely rifling through his sweaty gym clothes and C-grade music collection, my iPod was rocking Sun OK Papi OK, and it's my feeling that the
Japanese glitch grime, fractured electro-grunge and playful nonsensical fart-ness of each track reversed my transgression into a victimless crime. If you're reading this, balding work-out guy, please be aware that while my actions against your privacy might make me ripe for a lawsuit, I still have your sweaty disgusting underwear in my possession, and I'm not above introducing it as evidence in my defense.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Dress up as a cucumber fresh off the farm, accessorized with oversize Disney-style white gloves.
Outfit yourself in a cute Little Black Sambo outfit; refer to self as "wog".
Emulate the look and syntax of The Little Red Hen; complain that everyone in the band has refused to help write the songs; make off with entire take of ticket sales to teach musicians a lesson about the American roll-up-your-sleeves work ethic.
One half of the band is Confederate, the other half Union; Civil War battle reenactments take the place of between-song stage banter.
Wear giant tortilla costume with faint imprint of Jesus on it.
Outfit the entire band as Puritans; scold audience for immoral behavior, reenact the Salem Witch Hunt; lead entire audience to the gallows during encore.
Portray yourself as chitlins, drape entire body in pig intestines.
Sufjan is the White plantation owner, the entire band his slaves; lynchings occur upon audience request.
Dress up as praying mantis; wait for audience to come within striking distance, feast on prey.
Sufjan emulates President James Polk; dies after third song.
Concoct an entire suit made of snowy-white Marzipan; invite audience to eat it off you during the show.
Sufjan and the band dress as The Donner Party; eat one another by the end of the show (no encore).
Mimic the late Helen Keller, perform entire set deaf/mute.
Dress up as the Poky Little Puppy, prepare for role by consuming entire bottle of Valium before each show.
Dress up as the Indian Removal Act of 1830; negotiate land disputes with audience members residing west of the Mississippi River (if river not available in concert venue, substitute with nearest men's public urinal).
Impersonate the look/sound of P.T. Barnum; entire band dresses as circus freaks (bearded lady, man with no legs or arms, pinheads, conjoined twins, etc).
Band dresses up as sperm, Sufjan dresses up as egg; conception ensues during encore.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
The Ohsees finally arrives in the mail? Also, can anyone out there invent a pill which makes me feel as elated as I do when listening to
It Killed Mom, the current runaway favorite on my Urinary Hit Parade of Excitement? This song is why God invented the repeat button (and the urinary tract). Sad though I am to know that The Ohsees were only resurrected to spit on the grave of the now-dead Coachwhips, in my gut of guts, I am certain that if the future is going to be this bright, I gotta wear shades (that whoosing noise you hear is the sound of my jokes flying over the head of my 8 to 15-year-old target market.) (I suck.)